Mistletoe
by On-the-right-road
Summary: A short story featuring Patrick & Shelagh in the run-up to their wedding. Prompted by a comment on tumblr a couple of months ago (and with apologies for not crediting the person who made it)! A Christmas-themed Turnadette vignette, which will probably be posted in 3 parts.
1. Chapter 1

Shelagh hurriedly shut the door of Nonnatus House behind her, shutting out the bitter cold of a snow-shrouded day. Once inside she was instantly warmed by the sight which greeted her; evidently her colleagues had been busy while she had been otherwise engaged in her home visits.

The corridor stretching before her was decked in swathes of colourful paper chains which Chummy's scout troop had diligently and lovingly created for the Parish Hall and the House. A demolition notice on the two buildings had been served the day after she and Patrick had become engaged. It had sent shockwaves through the community and everyone had rallied round, determined to make sure that the nuns and nurses were afforded one last interlude of Christmas cheer in their home before the order to vacate the premises took effect on 4th January.

Now they were all focused on making the most of their remaining tenure while simultaneously making plans to move into the new building which the Order had acquired. As Sister Julienne had counselled a tearful Jane "We've all lived through worse, we'll live through this."

At the far end of the corridor Shelagh could hear the murmur of conversation and she gladly made her way towards the welcoming voices, keen to partake in a cup of hot, sweet tea and one of Mrs B's legendary mince pies.

As she neared the kitchen she was stopped in her tracks by a fit of giggling coming from the parlour. She hovered outside the door, curious as to what the occasion for all the merriment might be. "Shhh!" she heard in a not-so-subtle whisper which she immediately identified as Trixie's: "The nuns are only in the kitchen, we don't want them to get wind of this. You're not to say anything until we show them both in here after tea. I'll ask her to help me decorate the branches and then I'll tell Dr Turner that I can't reach the top of the tree with the angel. Then we'll tell them to look up, and hey presto! They'll have no choice!"

She heard another stifled giggle and Jenny's voice chimed in: "You are a terrible influence Beatrix Franklin, but I must admit I'm dying to see how they'll react."

"Jenny!" Cynthia admonished, "You're almost as bad as Trixie!"

"Oh come on Cynthia, it's only a bit of fun," Jenny protested, "I'm sure they won't mind."

Trixie joined in in an indignant whisper: "Yes, stop being such a boring old so-and-so Cynthia Miller! They are getting married in two weeks after all. Besides, it's high time the good doctor kissed his bride-to-be. Now pass me that mistletoe before I fall off this ladder and ladder my best stockings."

Through the frosted glass of the door Shelagh saw Cynthia hand something up to a figure perched on the top rung of Fred's stepladder.

"Even so, you really shouldn't put them on the spot like that Trixie," Cynthia continued. "It's not fair on them! I think it's absolutely lovely that they're together and a Christmas wedding is wonderful - it's so romantic! Maybe they want to save their first kiss for their wedding day. How do we even know this would be their first kiss anyway?"

An exasperated sigh from Trixie was followed by an equally exasperated explanation: "Of course it is! All he ever does is kiss her hand when he comes in and then again when he leaves. Sometimes I think they're too old-fashioned for their own good!"

"But..." Cynthia started to protest, until she was interrupted by Chummy: "I can see why they are though - it's why they never sneak off together in private; they're afraid it will just lead to more gossip. Well I for one think they bally-well deserve some happiness! And if this little idea of Trixie's gives them a little taste of that happiness then let the gossips be damned!"

Stood as still as a statue in the corridor, a fond smile spread across Shelagh's features at her friend's fierce condemnation of the weight of other's opinions. She knew how much Chummy had agonised over the expectations of her own Mother in particular - a pressure so great that she had almost ended things with Peter before they had properly begun. It was a lesson Shelagh had taken heed of and she found herself amused and touched in equal measure by the young midwives' plans to engineer a display of affection between herself and Patrick.

He was due at Nonnatus House within the next five - or knowing her fiancé, more likely fifteen - minutes to take tea with them all. She turned away quietly so as not to alert either the nuns or the midwives to her presence and stole back down the corridor to await his arrival. Ten minutes later she heard the familiar chug of the MG's engine and slipped out of the front door to intercept him on the steps.

His first reaction was concern rather than surprise, and he had stripped off his coat to bundle it around her before she could even greet him properly or offer up an explanation. "You'll catch your death out here!" he exclaimed, ushering her back in through the front door. She hushed him as soon as they were inside, a firm finger held against his lips before he could continue with his concerned admonition.

"Shhh! I was waiting inside until I heard your car. I need you to help me play a trick on someone..." He looked at her questioningly, simultaneously relieved and intrigued by her good humour. She shrugged off his coat and handed it back to him, their fingers brushing as she did so. She noticed him shiver at the contact and smiled as she thought back to earlier that same day...

_To be continued..._

_**Please review!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_More Christmas fluff!_**

She had been embarking on her rounds when her bicycle wheels had slipped on a patch of black ice around the corner from Nonnatus House. She had managed to keep herself and the bike upright but her midwife's case had not fared so well; it had tumbled to the ground with a clatter of metal instruments and a crash of breaking glass. Without opening it she knew her supplies would need to be replenished and she did not relish the prospect of asking Sister Evangelina for replacements. Instead she had wheeled her bike round the corner to the Parish Hall where she knew she could 'borrow' some of the clinic's supplies until the next day.

She had been surprised to find Patrick's car parked outside. There were no pre- or post- natal appointments scheduled for that day and the next immunisation drive wasn't due to begin until the following week. Concerned that perhaps he was undertaking a consultation which was of a delicate nature, she had slipped quietly into the hall, managing to prevent the door from creaking as she shut it behind her. She had scanned the usually-busy hall but could only see chairs and screens arrayed neatly around the walls; there was no sign of Patrick, let alone any of his patients.

Nevertheless the place was a testament to recent activity and ablaze with colour; a nativity scene graced one corner of the stage, a fully-decorated full-sized Christmas tree adorned the other. Streamers had been strung from the centre ceiling rose to each corner of the room and the kitchen hatch was surrounded by cards pinned all around its perimeter. As she moved quietly into the hall she caught sight of Patrick, his back to her, his hands resting on the sink as he gazed out of the window above it. She made her way round to the doorway and parted the strip curtain entrance, startling him out of his reverie.

"Patrick?" she questioned at the very same time he uttered her name in surprise: "Shelagh! What are you doing here?"

She moved further into the kitchen and set down her bag. "I needed to replace some broken nozzles and lamps. I dropped my bag. You know how they break so easily."

She saw the hint of something pass over his face at her words. It troubled her, especially when he was usually so quick to light up with a smile when he saw her. She asked gently: "Patrick, is everything all right?"

"What?" he asked distractedly, but then noticed the concern in her eyes. He took a step towards her, reaching for her hand and pressing it to his lips. "Shelagh, forgive me my love. I was caught up in thinking about this place, about some of the moments we've had in here." His tone thawed her half-frozen smile, melting away the frown creasing her forehead. He kissed her hand again, prompting a shy smile of delight. "What you just said... Do you remember you talked to me about spirit lamps once before? About how they break so easily."

Her mind flashed back to the moment and her face flushed with the recollection. She nodded, prompting him to continue: "It was the way you looked at me after you said it, it made me think that...No, I realised..."

"You realised...? she prompted again as his voice tailed off wistfully.

"I realised you might feel something for me too." He smiled in painful remembrance, reliving the emotions of that day. "I'd never dared dream you could up until that point. I wanted to, but I couldn't let myself think or feel that way about you. It would have been wrong. But after that moment I couldn't stop myself. That's when I realised I was falling in love with you."

She had taken a deep breath and squeezed his hand.

"You never said." She knew full well it had been because he couldn't.

"I tried to show you the next time we were in here," he offered. "And I still think what I did was unforgivable. I shouldn't have put you through that." He recalled how tenderly he had kissed her hand and how sharply she had pulled it away, even though she had immediately explained it was down to God, not him.

"It wasn't unforgivable," she said soothingly. "I forgave you. God forgave you. And it set us on the right road. It might have been a bit bumpy along the way," – he let out a quiet laugh at her understatement – "but we got there in the end." She placed her other hand over his and sighed in contented reverie. "Remember the last time we were in here?"

He glanced at the ring sparkling on her left hand, matching the twinkle forming in his eye.

"You do realise you never actually said 'Yes' to me?" he asked teasingly.

"That may be because you never actually asked me." she replied in an equally playful tone. "You had your son ask on your behalf…" Seeing his face start to fall she added: "…and it was the most beautiful note I have ever read in my life."

"Would you like me to ask you again?" he asked quietly, "As myself?"

She could only nod mutely in response, but joy shone from her eyes, her whole face lit up with happiness and wonder at the prospect.

To her surprise he ducked past her with an urgent instruction "Close your eyes and stay there!" thrown over his shoulder. She heard a rustling sound and what seemed mere seconds later his hands were on her shoulders as he turned her round. She divined his purpose immediately: he had tied the curtain in the doorway back, adorning it with a leafy sprig of mistletoe which now hung jauntily down from the centre of the door frame.

"It was wasted as a tree decoration," he offered by way of explanation, a hint of mischief in his tone and a glint of desire in his eyes.

Gently he grasped her hand and tugged her towards him even as he took a step back. When she was standing beneath the door frame he sank to one knee, still grasping her hand, and clearing his throat:

"We've known each other ten years, you and I, but in many respects we don't really know each other that well at all." He tightened his hold on her hand. "Apart from the fact that I know you like to sing to yourself when you think no-one else is listening. I know you always serve others before asking for anything for yourself. I know how you start to bite your lip when you're nervous - like you're doing now. I know I want to kiss it better."

He stood and then moved closer so that he was all-but looming over her, her hand now clutched to his heart. "And I know I want to spend the rest of my life learning everything there is to know about you. Shelagh, please say you'll marry me?"

The words washed over her and she stood transfixed in the intensity of his gaze, helpless with love; so lost that she wasn't even aware of the solitary tear rolling slowly down her cheek; that is until she felt his thumb tenderly sweep it away. It was only when the same thumb trailed down to brush against her lower lip - which she had indeed been biting - and only when he simultaneously quirked an eyebrow at her continued silence, only then did she find the breath to whisper: "Yes. A thousand times yes."

A thousand-watt smile was her reward, a look of depthless happiness which she knew she would hold in her head and her heart until her dying day. The smile stretched further as he leant down and softly pressed his mouth to hers, a gentle ripple of movement from his lips causing her own to part in joyous surprise. Instinctively she tilted her head, moving with him as she savoured her first kiss in the arms of her first - her one and only - love.

When they parted she leaned into him, burying her smiling face in his chest, feeling his arms tighten round her protectively. "That was perfect," she murmured.

"Yes," he said in an echoing murmur. "And I'll tell you what would be even more perfect..." She felt him stretch up and then his hand brushed through her hair, tucking the sprig of mistletoe into the braided platt at the side of her head.

"There," he'd said proudly, stepping back to admire his handiwork. She was laughing even as he swooped down to take advantage of her new hair accessory.

Naturally she had had to remove it as soon as she left the Parish Hall to resume her rounds, but not before her fiancé had stolen several more kisses from her, drawing both giggles of delight and moments of breathless longing from her.

Now, just a few hours later, she was faced with another mistletoe moment, albeit one promising to provide fun in an entirely different way. With Patrick appraised of her plans, they made their way to the dining room to take tea with her colleagues...

_To be continued..._

**_Please review if you have time!_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_This is the last chapter of my 3-part Christmas story. I'm aiming to finish the much-delayed next two chapters of 'A Kiss is just A Kiss' soon and would like to embark on an as yet un-named series of CTM scenes in drabble form at some point. And then it will be Christmas! (i.e. time for a Turnadette wedding). In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this rather fluffy concoction. :)_**

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Tea turned out to be a sumptuous affair. Since news of the demolition notice on Nonnatus House had become public, the public had in turn plied the Order with numerous gestures of support and goodwill. The nuns and nurses had been deeply touched by the selfless generosity of those in the area with perhaps the least to give; some of the dock labourers - men working long, gruelling hours nearby - had offered their services in whatever ways they could and several housewives with scarcely enough food in the larder to feed their own families had nevertheless delivered Christmas treats of homemade mince pies, flans, scotch eggs, and even a plum pudding. Mrs B had also gone into overdrive; more varieties of cake than even Sister Monica Joan could consume or conceal were to be found in tins sequestered all round the kitchen.

At Sister Julienne's insistence many of the foodstuffs had been passed on to nearby charities and to the local Barnado's Home, but sufficient quantities still remained to make for a feast for the beholders sat around the table as Shelagh and Patrick made their entrance.

"Ah, you're here! Please do join us," Sister Julienne greeted them, gesturing to the last two empty chairs at the end of the table. Warm smiles focused on them from all sides, though Shelagh sensed they concealed an undercurrent of curiosity, one which she habitually felt every time she faced her younger colleagues in the company of her husband-to-be.

"We are terribly sorry if we kept you all waiting Sister," Patrick nodded in deference to Sister Julienne. His fiancée looked suitably embarrassed to be among the last to take her place as he chivalrously pulled her chair out for her.

"Not at all, Dr Turner. We were just about to say Grace. The Lord has blessed us in a multitude of ways recently." To all those present she appeared to be referring to the abundance of food spread out in front of them, but Shelagh alone caught the subtle glance she threw in her direction, which only caused her to flush further in embarrassment. A lingering sense of unease remained with the former Sister Bernadette, that she had not felt able to confide in the woman she had come to think of as a mother about the true depth of her feelings for Patrick, at least not until after they had become engaged. She was certain that Sister Julienne had had more than an inkling of them but she had never broached the subject directly. It would only be on the eve of the wedding, as she took prayers with her former Mother Superior in the chapel in which she had undergone the greatest of agonies and would soon experience the greatest of happiness, only then would Shelagh learn that Sister Julienne had in fact divined that Sr Bernadette was in love with Dr Turner - and he with her - weeks before they had even been able to admit it to themselves, to each other.

In the absence of such knowledge in the present setting, in the eager watchfulness of her younger colleagues, Shelagh felt her confidence in her planned trickery start to waver. Maybe, she thought, the unexpected joy of their kisses earlier had caused a giddiness in her which she couldn't sustain in front of those whose good opinion she held most dear. She didn't wish to appear foolish or flighty in front of them, not in this setting. It was if the walls of Nonnatus House, so steeped in the devotions of her previous life, were closing in, closing off some of her sense of the devotions she now held.

Her quiet introspection was interrupted by the murmured benediction which Sister Julienne offered before inviting everyone to tuck in. Normal conversation was suspended as spoons were heaped, plates passed, thanks given. Once everyone had been served it took only a moment for Trixie to arrow in on the rare opportunity the meal presented for her to interrogate the happy couple in a social setting from which they could not immediately escape. She directed her opening gambit at Shelagh, despite the fact that she had proved a guarded adversary in previous attempts to satisfy her curiosity surrounding the pair.

"I hope you and fiancé have been getting into the Christmas spirit my dear. Unless there are more enjoyable things which have been occupying your time? I mean your wedding plans of course," she had added as Jenny stifled a giggle and Cynthia nudged an elbow none-too-subtly into her side.

Recalling both that afternoon's interlude and the preparations already well under way, Shelagh just about managed to suppress a shy smile. For the Turner family-to-be this promised to be the happiest Yuletide in many a year, particularly for a little boy whose Christmas wish was set to come true. Patrick & Shelagh had been scrupulously preparing for a traditional family celebration just three days after the wedding, keen not to overshadow the time of year young Timothy had always loved best. They planned to ask not for presents for themselves, but for small gifts to go in Timothy's stocking or under the tree.

"Well, actually..." she began hesitantly, suddenly uncomfortable as seven pairs of eyes turned expectantly towards her. That is until she felt Patrick gently twine his fingers through hers underneath the table, squeezing her hand and drawing it into his lap. All the while his gaze swept the table, giving away nothing of the affectionate gesture.

As his thumb stroked over hers fondly she found the resolve to address Trixie more directly: "Our plans are nearly complete and I think you'll soon see they are very much in the Christmas spirit, even if I say so myself. Thank you for asking," she smiled.

"How lovely!" Trixie trilled before continuing her mischief. "What about you Dr Turner? Have you managed to pull a Christmas cracker this year?"

"Nurse Franklin!" came the immediate admonishment from the other end of the table as Jenny giggled, Cynthia gasped and Jane blushed.

"I think we should change the subject don't you? We invited our guests here to enjoy their company, not to give them the third degree." Sister Julienne fixed Trixie with a querulous gaze, drawing an immediate mumbled apology: "Sorry Sister."

"You're very kind Sister," Patrick interjected in an attempt to alleviate the embarrassed silence which followed. "But it's quite all right. In fact we'd quite like to share a request with you all..."

It was Shelagh's turn to squeeze his hand as he relayed to the table their desire for all present to be seated at the top table with Timothy and Granny Parker during the wedding reception, due to be held at Poplar Town Hall. "You've been so very kind to us and you are like family to Shelagh, to both of us. We would be honoured to invite you as such."

He was met with beaming faces all round and a benediction from Sister Monica Joan: "I am reminded of a truth once written by George Bernard Shaw: 'A happy family is but an earlier heaven'," she declared. "Though I am afraid I will be earlier in heaven than any seated at this table," she added with sudden wistfulness.

"Oh do be quiet and finish your tea!" Sister Evangelina counselled, but not without affection in her voice. "God will call us all home in our proper time. And until then I suggest we all give thanks and prayers to the Lord for the family He has provided for us in the here and now." Tea cups were raised in agreement and lively conversation was soon resumed, during the course of which Shelagh & Patrick were charmed and cajoled into revealing several more details of their forthcoming nuptials. Their proposal of requesting small gifts for Timothy was met with particular delight: "Oh, what a lovely thing to do!" chimed Cynthia. "A simply splendid idea!" proclaimed Chummy.

Soon enough it was time for the nuns to take their leave for Compline. As everyone pitched in with clearing the dishes from the table Trixie saw her opportunity: "Dr Turner, Shelagh, please don't rush off straight away. We'd love for you to see the Christmas decorations we put up in the parlour this afternoon. In fact maybe you could help us put some finishing touches to the Christmas tree...?"

Patrick clapped his hands together: "Marvellous! That sounds like it would be tickety-boo." Shelagh shot him a quick look warning him not to over-play his hand but he simply grinned back at her, a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. "Though if you'll excuse me for just one moment, I must pop in on Fred. I have a favour to ask of him."

"Oh right," said Jenny, a little puzzled as to what it might be. "He was tinkering around with something in the boiler room a little earlier so I expect you'll find him there."

"Right-ho!"

In his absence Shelagh was ushered into the parlour where she made sure to 'ooh' and 'aah' over the colourful decorations and the beautiful tree. A surreptitious glance upwards confirmed that there was indeed a sprig of mistletoe pinned to a beam high above it. She noticed Trixie and Jenny exchange knowing glances and smiled secretly to herself as she awaited Patrick's return.

He entered the room not two minutes later, apologising once again for keeping them waiting. "That's quite all right Doctor," beamed Trixie. "We were wondering if you and your fiancée would do us the honour of putting the last decorations on the tree?"

Without waiting for a response she handed Shelagh a paper garland and Patrick a large home-made angel, covered with tin foil and garnished with glitter.

Before she could direct them any further she was interrupted by Patrick. "Fred!" he called, "Would you come in here a minute please?"

Fred popped his head round the door and greeted the assembled company. "All right all? You wanted to borrow me stepladder Doc?"

"Yes please Fred. I have a twinge of pain in my back. Trixie has asked me to help decorate the tree and I don't want to aggravate matters by stretching too much."

Fred set the stepladder down by the tree and Patrick glanced at Shelagh as her cue to move closer.

As the young midwives hovered around them in an expectant semi-circle he set his foot on the first rung of the ladder then suddenly stepped back off again, crying out in apparent agony, clutching his back. He thrust the angel into Fred's hands as several pairs of arms reached out to help him. Not surprisingly it was his fiancée who was first to get there, passing the garland to Trixie and allowing him to rest his arm on her shoulder as she helped him to the nearby settee.

As soon as he was sat down the groaning noises he had been making stopped completely and, to their utter astonishment, he looked back at the concerned faces of the nurses with a rapidly-widening grin. Looking up pointedly at the ceiling he declared: "Well Fred, it appears this is your lucky day! You get to kiss five lovely ladies in a row."

Fred followed his gaze and began to double up with laughter as he spotted the mistletoe hanging above them. Trixie meanwhile placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes suspiciously: "Dr Turner, I do believe you are an awful ham, not to mention a dreadful tease! But how on earth did you know it was there?"

"I'm afraid I'm the one to blame, Trixie," Shelagh confessed as she took hold of Patrick's hand in solidarity. "I overheard you all whispering and giggling in here a little earlier." She smiled sweetly and asked: "I hope you can all forgive me for turning the tables?"

"Of course!" Jenny replied, joining in with Fred's still rumbling laughter. "Well it looks like the Trixster has been tricked herself at last," she said turning to her friend and co-conspirator with a grin which was returned ruefully.

"A-hem!" interrupted Fred. "I do believe that there's a certain Christmas tradition which we are honour-bound to observe. Ladies?"

"All right Fred, but a peck on the cheek will have to suffice," Trixie conceded. "You needn't fear any ungentlemanly conduct from me young Nurse Franklin," he shot back playfully. "A kiss is just a kiss, remember."

With Shelagh & Patrick looking on in mirthful delight, Fred made his way down the line of nurses making loud 'mwah' noises as he planted a sloppy kiss on each of their proffered cheeks (or in Chummy's case, the side of her jaw which was as far as he could reach).

All took their turn in good grace - even Jane, despite the crimson hue which immediately rose on her cheek, the last in line to have Fred's attentions bestowed upon it.

"Your turn Doc!" he declared upon turning round, much to Trixie's immediate delight and Patrick's mortification. She clapped her hands together in glee: "Oh yes Dr Turner, after all didn't you just say we are like family to you?" Patrick stole a questioning glance at his fiancée who was smiling almost as much as Trixie. She gave his hand a squeeze. "Go on," she urged quietly. "They _are_ family and they've been so good to us."

Rising from the settee he crossed the room towards the five women expectantly watching him. He proceeded at a far more sedate pace than his predecessor, delivering quiet thanks with each gentle kiss he bestowed on the blushing cheeks of the waiting women. By the time he had uttered his gratitude to Jane, Shelagh had impulsively moved from the settee to stand at the end of the line. All eyes in the room turned to see what would ensue as he stopped - his smile deepening - in front of his fiancée.

"I hope the other ladies will forgive me," he murmured, "but a kiss is not always just a kiss. In this case it's also a promise." She read the truth of it in his eyes and, as he leaned in towards her, she was dimly aware of the gasps of glee and delight coming from her colleagues. Then his lips were on hers for an all-too brief moment and her every sense became focused on the gentle movement of his mouth against her own once more.

When they parted it was to find a paper garland draped around their shoulders; Trixie and Jenny were clapping and laughing, Chummy beaming her approval, Cynthia smiling wistfully and Jane blushing once more, eyes averted. As for Fred, he was the first to clap Patrick on the back before the whole throng descended on them, eager to offer them congratulations and Christmas cheer.

So it was that evening, while the chapel of Nonnatus House echoed with earnest songs of devotion, its parlour was also filled with joyous notes of shared love and laughter as the extended family within its walls rejoiced in their myriad blessings.

END

**_Seasons Greetings to one and all (whatever season it happens to be when you read this). Reviews are wonderful gifts for us fanfic writers, so any left under the tree for 'Mistletoe' would be much appreciated. :)_**


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